


Wintersend Secrets

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Avvar Culture and Customs, Avvar Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Gen, Pre-Relationship, Secret Santa, Wintersend (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Secrets were not his specialty. Eir was a trader, a guide, an explorer. But when Varric came up with an idea, Eir decided that maybe, a few secrets could be a good thing...Happy Holidays and best Wintersend wishes to you, Charis! I hope you enjoy, and it was a treat writing for your amazing characters.
Relationships: Avvar/Avvar (Dragon Age)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Wintersend Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ammocharis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ammocharis/gifts).



“You’re curious, aren’t you?”

Eir looked over and down at the question. “Curious about what?”

“Oh, the market. Gifts. The usual. Or ‘Lowlander nonsense,’ maybe,” came the reply, along with another of Varric’s trademark grins.

Maybe he was, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit it. Instead, he looked back toward the impromptu market set up among the permanent stalls, filling the lower courtyards of Skyhold with color, laughter, and the most amazing smells. Sugar-roasted nuts dipped in cinnamon made his stomach rumble, and whatever that one merchant was selling along with mulled wine promised only good things. There were fried bits of dough filled with canned fruits, sausages, enough beer to drown a Hold, cheeses, and more. None of that included all of the little…trinkets. Wreaths of dead branches and bright berries, some painted with gilt were displayed near sachets of dried flowers, boughs of pine and spruce, amazing carved toys, candles, and so much more.

He had money…

“You could always get her something.”

Eir snorted. “What ‘her,’ and why do you think I would follow some Lowlander tradition?”

“Do you even know them? It’s not just one, you know. Everywhere has their own Wintersend traditions.”

“It’s just gifts and sweets and prayers to your prophetess.”

An elbow caught him in the hip, and he grunted. “You know better than that. It’s the end of winter. Sure, there’s gifts and sweets, feasts and frequently a new addition to the family nine months later, but is that really any different than what you do?”

Sounds of the Chant drifted up on the wind, entwined with all the scents from earlier.

“Ok, fine, that part’s different. Come on, looking doesn’t hurt, now, does it?”

Eir glanced up, but there was no hold-beast soaring in the skies above the fortress. No, he was gone with the one he was bound to, doing whatever needed to be done somewhere to the west. The Lady’s Veil needed to be repaired, and he’d been left behind this time. Drinking had gotten old days ago, and he’d already hunted twice to help the cooks provide fresh venison for those who lived here. They’d retreated to crags Lowlanders struggled with to wait out Hakkon’s Breath, but he’d grown up in mountains almost as high. 

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to  _ look. _

**

Looking turned into spending almost everything Varric owed him in cards, as he wound up finding a finely wrought pendant, ribbons, soap that smelled almost like home, and a half dozen other things. Nuts and dried fruit, something that the Qunari merc had mentioned and he’d watched Josephine’s eyes melt over the name, and even a thick blanket woven from halla wool and softer than anything he’d dreamed of.

“So, what are you going to do with all of  _ that?  _ I thought you’d just get a little trinket. That pendant, for instance.”

Eir grinned as he picked up the box to take to his quarters. “That’s where I’m going to need some help. Are you in?”

“The way you’re spending my money? I already am.”

“That was  _ my  _ money, just still in your coin pouch,” he retorted. Varric snorted, but didn’t disagree. “Now, I just need to find a way…”

**

When Vatna came back from her latest journey, she came back out of her quarters with a confused look. “Josephine, was anyone in my quarters?”

“No, Inquisitor, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Why do you ask?” Josephine’s voice was as unruffled as ever.

“This.” She held up a bag of nuts and dried fruit. “I don’t remember asking for it, and it was in a box with a ribbon.”

The spymaster chipped in then. “Perhaps you have a secret admirer?” She stepped over and took one carefully, sniffing it. “They are safe from poison, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vatna snorted, and Eir smothered a chuckle. Of course the Lowlander would assume something nefarious. Then her eyes fell on him, and he tucked everything away.

“Eir? What do you know of this?”

He was not about to answer that yet, but he sauntered up and took out a slice of something red and popped it in his mouth, chewing. “It tastes good,” he said around the mouthful as it exploded with tart sweetness. “If you don’t want the gift, I’ll eat it.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, and he knew he’d scored a point. You just  _ didn’t  _ reject a gift without knowing the giver. Instead, she tipped her head slightly and looked through him as she talked to the Hold-beast, then nodded. She took a bite of her own, and he watched her smile.

“These are good,” she proclaimed loudly enough for more than their small group to hear. Another few bites, and she closed the rest of the box ‘for later.’

Two days later, the ‘mysterious’ gift-giver had struck again, this time with ribbons that matched her eyes and were just the right length to braid into her hair. Himnar gazed long at him and he stilled his face.  _ I swear I do not intend a debt,  _ he thought toward the falcon. Gods would hear what they liked, and perhaps his blood was close enough to the Land of Dreams for it to echo.  _ They are gifts of kindness. Vatna deserves joy as much as anyone else. More.  _

He winced: the last was not something he meant to think, but gods were gods. The falcon dipped his head, and then launched himself from the branch he’d claimed to spiral his way back up to Vatna’s rooms. Apparently she had been worried. He hadn’t wanted her to be  _ worried,  _ he’d wanted to see the same sort of joy on her face here as came with the end of Hakkon’s cold breath in the Holds, or the laughing folk around this Hold she’d built. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Maybe it was, Eir realized. He knew how much was on her shoulders, and it simply  _ wasn’t  _ the traditions of home. Maybe he shouldn’t have, and should have tried to get the others to help with the Avvar ceremony. But - no. Himnar would help. The god was one of the only people Vatna listened to, and he was generations upon generations in his current form, from what the augurs said.

Still, he might need to make a few adjustments to his plan.

Unfortunately - or fortunately - those adjustments wound up not being necessary. He’d planned so carefully, and snuck his way up to hang the pendant on her door, where it would be at eye level. Coming back down, he walked right into her.

“Eir? What are you doing here?”

Her shoulder was empty, so the Hold-beast must be somewhere else. “I…” He stopped before he could try to come up with an excuse. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said instead.

“A surprise.”

“It’s something the Lowlanders do, when they want to give a gift without leaving any obligation.” He watched her face for the telltale signs of anger or disbelief, but this time she seemed to be considering. Eir shrugged, but it was a jerky thing. He knew just how much he wanted to see her laugh, free and open. She was like the blizzards of their Holds, fury mixed with awe - and leaving a blanket to protect those who knew how to face them. “If you don’t want-”

He stopped talking when Vatna shook her head and made her way up the steps, then leaned his head against the stone. It was  _ hard,  _ sometimes, but he knew himself. ‘Hard’ had never stopped him, not when it was something that mattered. Not that he knew what  _ she  _ wanted, especially after he’d made a fool out of himself, but…

Footsteps pulled him out of his own reverie, and his breath wooshed out, mimicking Hakkon himself this winter. There she was, composed except for a bright flush on her cheeks and eyes that glimmered like icemelt. It wasn’t that, though. It was the silver falcon, wings outstretched, resting against her breastbone. That falcon was what made him start this whole game, and cajoled him into the Lowlander traditions all without Varric’s ‘help.’

Then her arms crossed.

“So, how does this ‘secret gift’ thing work? There are a few people who could use a little joy.”

His chuckle was far closer to a guffaw, but she joined in. Then he hugged her, and ignored the flutter when her strong arms wrapped around him. “I’ve got a few other things just waiting for the right person. Plus, the market’s still going strong, if you need someone to buy things discreetly.”

Vatna’s arms tightened almost to pain, then she punched his arm. “I don’t need it, but if I don’t, Leliana will spoil everything.”

“That’s what I’m here for, my Thane.”

“Oh, you’ve got rot in your brain. It’s probably all the Lowland beer.”

Eir laughed. “Well, if you don’t want help…”

Her arms crossed again, but her eyes were twinkling this time.

A blanket to Cullen, to handle the snow in the room his fear kept open, ‘chocolates’ to Josephine, scented soap to Cassandra, the special grease for The Iron Bull that made him shout in joy…

And best of all, a smile that said ‘thank you’ every time he saw her wearing a falcon pendant, worked in silver. Maybe some Lowland traditions were good after all.


End file.
